The Firstborn
Chapter Five
There was a discreet knock on the door of his bed-chamber, and Henry opened it, his face showing the anxiety of his inquiry.
The housemaid smiled at him. "Miss Bennet begged me to convey her gratitude for your kind inquiry and says that her sister's condition has improved this morning, although she is still rather ill."
"Thank you," said Henry, much relieved. He handed the girl a coin, and she bobbed a curtsey and scurried away. Henry prepared to go down to breakfast with a much lighter heart than he had possessed upon awakening. He had been quick in his comfort to Elizabeth the previous night, but was nonetheless glad to know that Jane had taken a turn for the better.
He was walking down the passage when he heard Darcy's voice calling him. He turned to his friend, smiling, but Darcy's face was grave.
"Tilney, I would speak with you," he said.
"Of course," said Henry, concerned by the other man's expression. "What is it?"
"I have never known you to behave as less than a gentleman. Thus, you can imagine my surprise at the display I witnessed in this passage last night."
Henry was all astonishment. "What do you mean, Darcy?"
"I mean--" Darcy lowered his voice, "--you addressed Miss Elizabeth Bennet by her Christian name. And kissed her hand! You have assured me time and time again that you have no romantic intentions toward Miss Bennet. What do you expect me to think of such behaviour, Tilney? And what do you expect Miss Bennet to think?"
"Good heavens! Did I address her by her Christian name? I did not realize--Darcy, I assure you that I only thought to give her comfort. She was distressed over her sister's illness. I confess that I feel--very warmly toward Miss Bennet, but not in a romantic way."
"So you say," said Darcy, one eyebrow archly raised.
"So I mean," cried Henry. "There is only one woman who will be my wife, and that is Catherine Morland. What else can I say to convince you of that?"
"You need not say anything, Tilney. But you could show me, and the rest of the world, by your behaviour toward Miss Bennet."
Henry sighed. "Be assured that I have taken what you have said to heart. But know that I have no romantic intentions toward Miss Bennet. And that I never shall."
"Very well." Darcy did not look convinced, but let the matter drop.
They went in to breakfast, and found Miss Bingley complaining that Elizabeth had sent for her mother to determine whether Jane may return to Longbourn. "You know that woman will not have the good breeding to stay away when she is not needed or wanted," she grumbled. "Are we to be invaded by every Bennet in the neighbourhood?"
A short time later, a footman announced that Mrs. Bennet and two of the Miss Bennets had arrived. Caroline rolled her eyes dramatically and went to conduct them to the sickroom.
"I do not know which is worse, Mrs. Bennet or her youngest daughters," she said on rejoining them. "Two of the stupidest and silliest things I have ever seen! They never stopped chattering from the time I joined them to the time I left them with Jane. It was officers this and regimentals that. Upon my word, they would not recognize a man as such unless he wore a red coat."
"I remember a time, Caroline, when you liked the colour scarlet very well yourself," Mrs. Hurst teased her.
Miss Bingley laughed. "Oh, yes, Louisa, when I was a child, perhaps. I suppose the Miss Bennets' regrettable fancies can be blamed upon youth. But surely they must be sixteen, seventeen years old? By that time I knew the true worth of military men, that is, none at all!" The sisters laughed heartily together.
Henry remained silent, but noticing her brother's and Darcy's obvious displeasure, Miss Bingley was quick to recall that Henry's father and brother, as well as Mr. Darcy's cousin, were in the service of His Majesty. "Oh, I do not speak of gentlemen such as the Tilneys, and Colonel Fitzwilliam," she said quickly. "These militia officers, though, are barely genteel. You have dined with them, gentlemen, surely you have noticed."
"I found them most pleasant, and quite gentleman-like," said Bingley, not much mollified by his sister's quick and unskillful reversal. He looked appealingly at Darcy, perhaps hoping that his friend would join in his disapprobation, but the other gentleman remained silent. Henry, who had not found Miss Bingley's remarks especially offensive, would nonetheless not give her the satisfaction of either excusing or censuring her, and he simply drank his tea quietly. Silence descended over the table, broken only by the slurps and grunts of the feeding Hurst, until finally Miss Bingley announced that it was time she attended Mrs. Bennet and made her escape.
A few moments later the Bennet ladies followed her into the breakfast parlour. Bingley rose and addressed Mrs. Bennet, "I hope you have not found Miss Bennet worse than you expected, ma'am."
"Indeed I have, sir," was her answer. "She is a great deal too ill to be moved. Mr. Jones says we must not think of moving her. We must trespass a little longer on your kindness."
"Removed!" cried Bingley. "It must not be thought of. My sister, I am sure, will not hear of her removal."
"You may depend upon it, madam," said Miss Bingley, with cold civility, "that Miss Bennet shall receive every possible attention while she remains with us."
Mrs. Bennet was profuse in her acknowledgments.
"I am sure," she added, "if it was not for such good friends I do not know what would become of her, for she is very ill indeed, and suffers a vast deal, though with the greatest patience in the world -- which is always the way with her, for she has, without exception, the sweetest temper I ever met with. I often tell my other girls they are nothing to her. You have a sweet room here, Mr. Bingley, and a charming prospect over that gravel walk. I do not know a place in the country that is equal to Netherfield. You will not think of quitting it in a hurry I hope, though you have but a short lease."
"Whatever I do is done in a hurry," replied he; "and therefore if I should resolve to quit Netherfield, I should probably be off in five minutes. At present, however, I consider myself as quite fixed here." Henry smiled at Bingley's eagerness.
"That is exactly what I should have supposed of you," said Elizabeth.
"You begin to comprehend me, do you?" cried he, turning towards her.
"Oh! yes -- I understand you perfectly."
"I wish I might take this for a compliment; but to be so easily seen through I am afraid is pitiful."
"That is as it happens. It does not necessarily follow that a deep, intricate character is more or less estimable than such a one as yours."
"Lizzy," cried her mother, "remember where you are, and do not run on in the wild manner that you are suffered to do at home."
Elizabeth blushed for her mother's vulgarity, and Henry gave her a sympathetic smile, which she was not quite able to return.
"I did not know before," continued Bingley immediately, "that you were a studier of character. It must be an amusing study."
"Yes; but intricate characters are the most amusing. They have at least that advantage."
"The country," said Darcy, "can in general supply but few subjects for such a study. In a country neighbourhood you move in a very confined and unvarying society."
"But people themselves alter so much, that there is something new to be observed in them for ever."
Henry silently agreed with Elizabeth, thinking of Darcy's recent behaviour.
"Yes, indeed," cried Mrs. Bennet, offended by his manner of mentioning a country neighbourhood. "I assure you there is quite as much of that going on in the country as in town."
Everybody was surprised; and Darcy, after looking at her for a moment, turned silently away. Elizabeth looked miserable, and Henry's heart went out to her. Mrs. Bennet, who fancied she had gained a complete victory over Darcy, continued her triumph.
"I cannot see that London has any great advantage over the country for my part, except the shops and public places. The country is a vast deal pleasanter, is not it, Mr. Bingley?"
"When I am in the country," he replied, "I never wish to leave it; and when I am in town it is pretty much the same. They have each their advantages, and I can be equally happy in either."
"Aye -- that is because you have the right disposition. But that gentleman," looking at Darcy, "seemed to think the country was nothing at all."
"Indeed, Mama, you are mistaken," said Elizabeth, blushing for her mother. "You quite mistook Mr. Darcy. He only meant that there were not such a variety of people to be met with in the country as in town, which you must acknowledge to be true."
"Certainly, my dear, nobody said there were; but as to not meeting with many people in this neighbourhood, I believe there are few neighbourhoods larger. I know we dine with four and twenty families."
Henry was dismayed for Elizabeth, and nothing but concern for that young lady could enable Bingley to keep his countenance. His sister was less delicate, and directed her eye towards Mr. Darcy with a very expressive smile. Elizabeth, clearly trying to do something that might turn her mother's thoughts, asked her if Charlotte Lucas had been at Longbourn since her coming away.
"Yes, she called yesterday with her father. What an agreeable man Sir William is, Mr. Bingley, is not he? So much the man of fashion! So genteel and so easy! He has always something to say to everybody. That is my idea of good breeding; and those persons who fancy themselves very important and never open their mouths, quite mistake the matter."
"Did Charlotte dine with you?"
"No, she would go home. I fancy she was wanted about the mince pies. For my part, Mr. Bingley, I always keep servants that can do their own work; my daughters are brought up differently. But every body is to judge for themselves, and the Lucases are very good sort of girls, I assure you. It is a pity they are not handsome! Not that I think Charlotte so very plain -- but then she is our particular friend."
"She seems a very pleasant young woman," said Bingley.
"Indeed," added Henry. "I have very much enjoyed Miss Lucas's company at the assemblies and balls I have attended here."
"Oh! dear, yes; -- but you must own she is very plain. Lady Lucas herself has often said so, and envied me Jane's beauty. I do not like to boast of my own child, but to be sure, Jane -- one does not often see anybody better looking. It is what everybody says. I do not trust my own partiality. When she was only fifteen, there was a gentleman at my brother Gardiner's in town, so much in love with her, that my sister-in-law was sure he would make her an offer before we came away. But however he did not. Perhaps he thought her too young. However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were."
"And so ended his affection," said Elizabeth impatiently. "There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!"
"I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love," said Darcy.
"Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Every thing nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away."
Henry knew that Elizabeth was funning with Darcy but felt relieved nonetheless, thinking of the passionate sonnets with which he barraged his fiancée, some even of his own composition.
Darcy only smiled. After a short silence Mrs. Bennet began repeating her thanks to Mr. Bingley for his kindness to Jane with an apology for troubling him also with Lizzy. Mr. Bingley was unaffectedly civil in his answer, and forced his younger sister to be civil also, and say what the occasion required. She performed her part, indeed, without much graciousness, but Mrs. Bennet was satisfied, and soon afterwards ordered her carriage. Upon this signal, the youngest of her daughters put herself forward. The two girls had been whispering to each other during the whole visit, and the result of it was, that the youngest should tax Mr. Bingley with having promised on his first coming into the country to give a ball at Netherfield.
"Mr. Bingley," she said, "did you not promise to give a ball at Netherfield as soon as you were settled here? It will be a great scandal if you do not keep your word."
"I am perfectly ready, I assure you, to keep my engagement, and when your sister is recovered, you shall, if you please, name the very day of the ball. But you would not wish to be dancing while she is ill."
Lydia declared herself satisfied. "Oh! Yes, it would be much better to wait till Jane was well, and by that time most likely Captain Carter would be at Meryton again. And when you have given your ball," she added, "I shall insist on their giving one also. I shall tell Colonel Forster it will be quite a shame if he does not." Henry did not doubt for a moment that Lydia would do so. He found her forwardness to be off-putting; he could not help comparing her with another young lady, only a few years older, who also loved balls but knew how to comport herself with a great deal more propriety.
Mrs. Bennet and her daughters then departed, and Elizabeth returned instantly to Jane, leaving her own and her relations' behaviour to the remarks of the two ladies and Mr. Darcy; the latter of whom, however, could not be prevailed on to join in their censure of her, in spite of all Miss Bingley's witticisms on fine eyes.
The day passed much as the day before had done. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley had spent some hours of the morning with the invalid, who continued, though slowly, to mend; and in the evening Elizabeth joined their party in the drawing room. The loo table, however, did not appear. Mr. Darcy was writing, and Miss Bingley, seated near him, was watching the progress of his letter, and repeatedly calling off his attention by messages to his sister. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst was observing their game.
Elizabeth took up some needlework, and Henry a volume of The Italian, although he noticed that her attention, like his own, was less on her work than on what passed between Darcy and his companion. The perpetual commendations of the lady either on his hand-writing, or on the evenness of his lines, or on the length of his letter, with the perfect unconcern with which her praises were received, formed a curious dialogue.
"How delighted Miss Darcy will be to receive such a letter!"
He made no answer.
"You write uncommonly fast."
"You are mistaken. I write rather slowly."
Henry could not help thinking that it was odd that Darcy should be so curt with a lady that he seemed to think of in a romantic sense. Darcy's friends knew that such short answers indicated that he would rather not engage in conversation, and usually had sufficient sense to leave him alone, but Miss Bingley did not seem to know or understand Darcy's mood.
Elizabeth, although her head was bent to her work, lifted her eyes to watch them, and then to Henry, the corners of her mouth curling up.
"How many letters you must have occasion to write in the course of the year! Letters of business too! How odious I should think them!"
"It is fortunate, then, that they fall to my lot instead of to yours."
"Pray tell your sister that I long to see her."
"I have already told her so once, by your desire."
"I am afraid you do not like your pen. Let me mend it for you. I mend pens remarkably well."
"Thank you, but I always mend my own."
"How can you contrive to write so even?"
He was silent.
"Tell your sister I am delighted to hear of her improvement on the harp, and pray let her know that I am quite in raptures with her beautiful little design for a table, and I think it infinitely superior to Miss Grantley's."
"Will you give me leave to defer your raptures till I write again? At present I have not room to do them justice."
"Oh! It is of no consequence. I shall see her in January. But do you always write such charming long letters to her, Mr. Darcy?"
"They are generally long; but whether always charming, it is not for me to determine."
"It is a rule with me, that a person who can write a long letter, with ease, cannot write ill."
"That will not do for a compliment to Darcy, Caroline," cried her brother, "because he does not write with ease. He studies too much for words of four syllables. Do not you, Darcy?"
"My style of writing is very different from yours."
"Oh!" cried Miss Bingley, "Charles writes in the most careless way imaginable. He leaves out half his words, and blots the rest."
"My ideas flow so rapidly that I have not time to express them, by which means my letters sometimes convey no ideas at all to my correspondents."
"You mean you write as you speak, Bingley," said Henry with a smile that Bingley returned good-naturedly.
"Your humility, Mr. Bingley," said Elizabeth, "must disarm reproof."
"Nothing is more deceitful," said Darcy, "than the appearance of humility. It is often only carelessness of opinion, and sometimes an indirect boast."
Bingley laughed, not at all offended. "And which of the two do you call my little recent piece of modesty?"
"The indirect boast; for you are really proud of your defects in writing, because you consider them as proceeding from a rapidity of thought and carelessness of execution, which if not estimable, you think at least highly interesting. The power of doing any thing with quickness is always much prized by the possessor, and often without any attention to the imperfection of the performance. When you told Mrs. Bennet this morning that if you ever resolved on quitting Netherfield you should be gone in five minutes, you meant it to be a sort of panegyric, of compliment to yourself; and yet what is there so very laudable in a precipitance which must leave very necessary business undone, and can be of no real advantage to yourself or any one else?"
"Nay," cried Bingley, "this is too much, to remember at night all the foolish things that were said in the morning. And yet, upon my honour, I believed what I said of myself to be true, and I believe it at this moment. At least, therefore, I did not assume the character of needless precipitance merely to show off before the ladies."
"I dare say you believed it; but I am by no means convinced that you would be gone with such celerity. Your conduct would be quite as dependent on chance as that of any man I know; and if, as you were mounting your horse, a friend were to say, "Bingley, you had better stay till next week," you would probably do it, you would probably not go -- and, at another word, might stay a month."
"You have only proved by this," cried Elizabeth, "that Mr. Bingley did not do justice to his own disposition. You have shown him off now much more than he did himself."
"I am exceedingly gratified," said Bingley, "by your converting what my friend says into a compliment on the sweetness of my temper. But I am afraid you are giving it a turn which that gentleman did by no means intend; for he would certainly think the better of me, if under such a circumstance I were to give a flat denial, and ride off as fast as I could."
"Would Mr. Darcy then consider the rashness of your original intention as atoned for by your obstinacy in adhering to it?"
"Upon my word I cannot exactly explain the matter; Darcy must speak for himself."
"You expect me to account for opinions which you choose to call mine, but which I have never acknowledged. Allowing the case, however, to stand according to your representation, you must remember, Miss Bennet, that the friend who is supposed to desire his return to the house, and the delay of his plan, has merely desired it, asked it without offering one argument in favour of its propriety."
"To yield readily -- easily -- to the persuasion of a friend is no merit with you."
"To yield without conviction is no compliment to the understanding of either."
"You appear to me, Mr. Darcy, to allow nothing for the influence of friendship and affection. A regard for the requester would often make one readily yield to a request without waiting for arguments to reason one into it. I am not particularly speaking of such a case as you have supposed about Mr. Bingley. We may as well wait, perhaps, till the circumstance occurs, before we discuss the discretion of his behaviour thereupon. But in general and ordinary cases between friend and friend, where one of them is desired by the other to change a resolution of no very great moment, should you think ill of that person for complying with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it?"
"Will it not be advisable, before we proceed on this subject, to arrange with rather more precision the degree of importance which is to appertain to this request, as well as the degree of intimacy subsisting between the parties?"
"By all means," cried Bingley; "Let us hear all the particulars, not forgetting their comparative height and size; for that will have more weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful object than Darcy, on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening when he has nothing to do."
Mr. Darcy smiled; but Henry thought he could perceive that he was rather offended, and therefore checked his own laugh. Miss Bingley warmly resented the indignity he had received, in an expostulation with her brother for talking such nonsense.
"I see your design, Bingley," said his friend. "You dislike an argument, and want to silence this."
"Perhaps I do. Arguments are too much like disputes. If you and Miss Bennet will defer yours till I am out of the room, I shall be very thankful; and then you may say whatever you like of me."
"What you ask," said Elizabeth, "is no sacrifice on my side; and Mr. Darcy had much better finish his letter."
Mr. Darcy took her advice, and did finish his letter.
When that business was over, he applied to Miss Bingley and Elizabeth for the indulgence of some music. Miss Bingley moved with alacrity to the piano-forte, and after a polite request that Elizabeth would lead the way, which the other as politely and more earnestly negatived, she seated herself.
Mrs. Hurst sang with her sister, and while they were thus employed, Elizabeth turned over some music books that lay on the instrument. After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy drew near Elizabeth and exchanged a few words with her. Henry watched them for a moment; Elizabeth did not seem put out by Darcy's conversation, so he returned his attention to his book, although the echoes of the previous discussion - almost an argument - between Darcy and Elizabeth echoed disturbingly through his mind. It pained him to see them so at odds. If only Darcy could be brought to understand the true superiority of a young lady like Elizabeth Bennet!
Elizabeth left them soon after, to return to her sister; and the other ladies retired soon afterward, along with Bingley and Mr. Hurst. A short time after they were gone, Henry looked up to see Darcy standing by the pianoforte, lazily turning over pieces of music, much as Elizabeth had done a short time before.
"You have the look of a man with a great deal on his mind," said Henry with a smile.
Darcy did not answer, and Henry gently called him to attention, making him start and stare at Henry as if he was surprised to see him. "What did you say, Tilney? I beg your pardon. I did not attend."
"I noticed," said Henry, laughing. Darcy smiled, and Henry was emboldened to question him about a subject that had been on his own mind. "I think I can guess what has you so distracted," he ventured.
"Can you?" said Darcy, smiling in a way that only encouraged Henry's ideas.
"I think," said Henry, laying down his book and rising to join Darcy by the pianoforte, "that it has something to do with a certain young lady."
Darcy stared at his friend for a moment; then he visibly relaxed and gave a short, rueful laugh. "Am I so transparent?" he asked.
"Well, I am your oldest friend," responded Henry, somewhat smugly.
"Yes, you are," said Darcy. "I should have known that you would sense my feelings almost before I did." He continued to shuffle the music, finally bunching it together in a ragged pile and turning to Henry, his agitation showing in his face. "I cannot stop thinking about her," he said in a half-whisper. "She has bewitched me, Tilney! In a way that no woman has before!"
Henry was startled at the unusual vehemence of his friend's words. I cannot believe Darcy could feel so strongly about Caroline Bingley! "What are you going to do about it?" he asked.
Darcy sighed heavily. "What can I do about it?" he asked, running a hand through his hair. "There can be no question of marriage. Such a connection could only be deplored. I keep repeating that to myself; it keeps me out of the worst danger."
Although he was dismayed at such evidence of improper pride on his friend's part, Henry was at the same time ashamed to realize that he felt relief at Darcy's words. As much as he enjoyed visiting Pemberley, the thought of visiting a Pemberley presided over by Caroline Bingley alarmed him to such an extent that he chose his words carefully, genuinely concerned for his friend's happiness and not wishing to inadvertently prejudice him against his own heart. "Surely you cannot mean that," he said. "It is an entirely proper connection. Perhaps her family is not as--genteel as yours, but they are hardly objectionable. In light of your hesitation, I cannot help but think that what you feel is not love, but infatuation."
"Perhaps you are right." Darcy was nodding, but talking more to himself than to Henry. "Yes, it is a mere infatuation. We will not be in the same house for much longer; I dare say I shall be safe then."
The only response Henry could form was, "Perhaps that is for the best."
The innocuous reply seemed to give Darcy some relief from his oppressed feelings, which made Henry glad on that account at least. He spent several hours puzzling over the strange idea of Darcy having such violent affection for Caroline Bingley. He remembered something that Catherine had once told him: that love had the power to render a person beautiful to the one who loved them. Sweet Catherine, he thought with a smile, you always attribute the finest motives to everyone, even those least deserving of such regard. I shall act upon your example, my love; I shall look for the good in Caroline, if she is to be my friend's wife.
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